Small but perfectly Fourmed

ERIC Henderson, a football man who therefore knows his pies and queues, has been on about the best steak pie - not steak and kidney, he can't be chewed with kidney - in all his 81 years.

"No gristle, no fat, just lots of good meat and excellent home made pastry," enthuses Eric, who - money where his mouth is - regularly makes the 50-mile top up trip from Marske-by-the-Sea to Sedgefield.

Others, it's said, come from all over the North-East to the "tearoom and patisserie" known simply as Number Four.

It's been run seven days a week for almost ten years by Linda and Philip Smith, he a former goldsmith who went on a course in Switzerland to complement his confections.

All that glisters? It's really very good indeed - and chips with absolutely nothing.

Eric had also advised against going at lunchtime, on the grounds that it's often impossible to get a seat - more than about 20 into Number Four won't go. We landed at 2.45pm instead.

Still, it was as full as a good steak pie, diners eating with manifest gusto. An elderly couple had come simply for the home made ice cream, served in fancy bowls like it used to be on misty-eyed Sunday afternoons; another chap waxed hyperbolic about the humble ham sandwich.

A knickerbocker gloriously appeared, as if designed by the chap who built Blackpool Tower and only about three inches shorter.

Almost everything is home made out the back in a kitchen almost run off its feet, though the menu - lest someone suppose that there be a state owned baked bean refinery at the heart of the Prime Minister's constituency -- goes out of its way to proclaim that the beans are Mr Heinz's.

The column has a theory - just a supposition, understand - that Heinz offers 20 per cent off catering tins, and possibly a free bottle of ketchup, to what are called participating establishments. You never see menus proclaiming Buxted chicken, or Fyffes' bananas, or Farmer Giles's pork pig, now do you?

Number Four, at any rate, might comfortably be sub-titled Cosy Caf, a Tardis among tearooms, so surprising is what might be termed its capacity.

The window offers glimpses of other goods like soft toys, chutney, greetings stationery and herbs and spices said to have come "From the Apothecary's Garden", all so greatly jostling for space that there's a danger of being eaten by a giraffe.

"You should see it at Christmas," said Linda, "it's like Santa's grotto in here."

The nicely decorated tables are about the size of a 24 inch wheel. The staff are smiling and friendly, scattering "Sir" and "darling" with happy disregard for whatever in other Sedgefield circles may be considered politically incorrect.

The Boss noted with approval that they were all "grown up". Under the 2003 Ageism Act, you can probably get ten years for that.

The menu's enormous: sandwiches, open sandwiches, toasted sandwiches, American salmon, Scottish salmon, Canadian red salmon, baked potatoes, "large" salads, all day breakfast, omelettes, "classics" and a baker's six or seven dozen on the cake stands.

A page from the menu was apparently missing. How's anyone supposed to notice?

The cheese and broccoli soup was thick and well balanced, the steak pie (£1.50 on its own) came with half a lorry load of mushy peas. It was everything Eric had supposed it to be, and he'd gone weak kneed about the apple cake, too.

Philip's sweet, Linda savoury. "It's tremendously hard but there's honestly never been a morning when we've woken up and dreaded the idea of going to work," she said. "The reward is that so many seem to appreciate it."

The apple cake, with ice cream, was the sort of thing shops stopped selling 40 years ago, and perhaps needs no higher recommendation.

The Boss, lest she be overlooked amid all this indulgence, had two of the "speciality" fish cakes - one salmon and dill, the other Mediterranean tuna - with a substantial salad.

The blackberry tart which followed was reckoned "delicious", the coffee was freely topped up, the bill for two was around £17. Little wonder it's so popular: Number Four adds up.

* Number Four, High Street, Sedgefield. Open Monday-Saturday 9am-6pm, Sunday 10am-4pm.

ON a visit to Egglestone Hall gardens in Teesdale, Rae Black from Durham noticed "Lemon sole with tarter sauce" among the tea room specials. Bitter-sweet, or sharp words for the sign writer?

ONCE the scarlet pimpernel of North-East gastronomy, our old friend Didier da Ville could be on the move again. Successfully settled for several years at Al Syros in Hartlepool, the Frenchman has been telling friends that he is to be chef at the Black Horse at Kirby Fleetham, near Northallerton.

There are those who swear they can also hear wedding bells in the near distance.

The pub's owned by Dave Morrison, for 40 years a familiar wicket keeper in the NYSD cricket league and last at the Builders Arms in Darlington. Didier, he says, is discussing a franchise for the kitchen operation.

"We've had several meetings and it's looking promising. He seems to be a character; that'll make two of us."

THE inaugural beer festival at the Bay Horse in Heighington successfully took place last weekend, landlord Mark Reynolds content to sleep on the job.

The 20 real ales were in a marquee out the back. Mark spent four nights under canvas.

"I camped out with a television, a bottle of whisky, a few cans, some sandwiches and a flask of soup," he says. "The soup doesn't seem to have been touched."

We looked in on Friday lunchtime, before ever it began, enjoyed a pleasant chicken and bacon salad - another of the company swore by the steak - and what might be termed two or three tasters.

There is one problem, however. Last week's column reported that Black Bat, one of the tempting 20, had been chosen in honour of the head barmaid, known thereabouts as Wendy the Witch.

Though the target is uncertain, the witch may shortly ride again very shortly. "Revenge," she promises, "is imminent."

...and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew about the cat's handsome victory in the milk drinking contest.

It won by six laps.

Published: 07/10/2003